He Chased His Ex, I Axed the Vows

### Bar Scene

Rayan Spencer was strung out tighter than a piano wire, so he’d set up drinks with Cruz Fernandez to blow off some steam. The second they sat down, Cruz was glued to his phone, snapping photos of the pub’s gritty, cozy interior for his Instagram. He captioned it: *Ladies, if you’re free tonight, pull up. Drinks are on me.*

Rayan caught it and scoffed, his disgust obvious. "Can’t go five minutes without chasing tail, can you?"

"Says the guy who’s still moping over his," Cruz shot right back.

Rayan glared at him, pressing his lips into a hard line and staying silent.

Triumphant for once, Cruz broke into a mischievous grin and slung an arm over Rayan’s shoulder. "Chill out, man. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. Give it ten minutes, and these girls will be flooding in. Try not to look like a kicked puppy, yeah? It’s a total buzzkill."

"You wear your man-whoring like a damn badge of honor."

"..."

Momentary wins don’t last when reality hits you that fast.

After a few more rounds of back-and-forth, Hayden Oliver showed up—he was supposed to be hashing out the divorce deal with Maya at The Grove. Rayan wasn’t even surprised. He clinked his glass against Hayden’s and asked, "How’d she take it?"

Hayden cut straight to the point. "I warned you this was a garbage idea, but you wouldn’t listen. If you don’t actually want this divorce, you should be trying to win her over, not dragging your friends’ names through the mud."

Cruz, feeling bold again, butted right in. "Wait, hold up. Maya’s actually dead set on leaving you? Haha, don’t sweat it—you’re single now, no one’s gonna judge you for it."

Rayan gritted his teeth, drew a slow, steady breath, and spoke in a cold, even tone. "Hey, Cruz. That plot of land at the foot of the Alps right by your resort? It looks pretty nice."

"You interested? No problem, bro—I’ll cut you a hell of a deal."

"Perfect for a cemetery. Since we’re best pals, I’ll even build you a fancy little mausoleum up there, and pave the road real nice. So every year on your memorial, people can drive straight to your grave."

"..."

Cruz liked to joke around to lighten the mood. But when Rayan hit back? He didn’t leave a single bruise unturned.

Hayden watched the whole exchange go down, then said bluntly, "Rayan, I don’t know how you talk to Maya day to day, but if this is how you handle conversations with her? It’s no wonder you ended up here."

Rayan just drank in silence. Communication? What communication? There hadn’t been any for months.

### Phone Call with Brycen

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to see a report from Brycen Wells.

Gustavo Walker had a handful of seedy, off-the-grid hangouts. Everything checked out clean—except for one entry.

Brycen called immediately after sending it. "Mr. Spencer, did you get the report?"

"I did. What’s up with the starred name? Only one name?"

"Whitley Jimenez. She was an international supermodel who retired at the peak of her career to get married. No solid traces of where she is now. All I could dig up on her is basic Google stuff. Her connection to Gustavo Walker looks like just tabloid gossip, but the age lines up. She’s probably the person you’re looking for."

Rayan lifted an eyebrow. Years of working together had paid off—Brycen always knew exactly what he wanted without needing explicit instructions.

"Did you send the DNA in for testing?"

"It just went out for analysis. To make sure we get it right, I sent samples to two separate labs. Results should be back day after tomorrow."

"Got it."

"If you want more info on Whitley, I think the only way is to go straight to Gustavo Walker and ask him."

Rayan furrowed his brows, a faint unease coiling in his chest. "Let’s table that for now."

It wasn’t Gustavo’s messy private life that was eating at him. It was how he was supposed to face Maya when he walked through the door later.

Ten minutes later, a group of women showed up. Rayan cursed Cruz under his breath a few times, then decided to peace out.

Cruz called after him, "Hey, don’t bounce, Rayan! We’re bros—share the fun, man!"

Rayan didn’t even bother dignifying that with a response. He just walked straight out.

### At Home

Back at the house, Rayan hesitated before going in. He stayed sitting in his car, staring up at the second floor window.

The light in the master bedroom was still on.

That was the only thing that kept him going right now. At least she hadn’t left yet.

As long as she was still here, there was still a chance to fix things.

Frustrated and twisted up with uncertainty, old habits pulled at him. He reached into his pocket on instinct, searching for a cigarette.

His pocket came up empty. Then he remembered—he’d quit five years ago.

Five years ago, he walked away from a brutal car crash with barely his life intact. After that, he’d cleaned up his act: cut out the late nights, worked out consistently, only drank occasionally, and quit smoking for good.

He scoffed at himself, bitter and self-deprecating, pressed his lips into a line, then opened the car door and stepped out.

Downstairs on the first floor, everything looked perfectly normal. Eleanora Guzman, their housekeeper, was still wiping down the kitchen.

As Rayan drew closer, he overheard a conversation drifting from the living room. Eleanora had put the call on speaker, so every word came through clear: "Did Maya come home with Rayan, or by herself?"

He froze mid-step. His footsteps stopped cold.

"She came home on her own."

"And what about Rayan?"

"Mr. Spencer hasn’t gotten back yet."

There was a pause, then a relieved sigh. "I knew it—he secretly wants this divorce, he just doesn’t want to make a scene. After all, Maya took care of him through those two terrible years. Just keep an eye on them, and let me know the second anything happens."

"Okay."

The call ended. Eleanora set down her cleaning cloth and picked up her phone, then turned around to find Rayan standing right in the kitchen doorway.

"Mr… Mr. Spencer…" she stammered, clearly panicking. "When did you get back?"

"I’ve been back a little while. Was sitting outside in the car."

No wonder she hadn’t heard the car pull up. Eleanora only got more anxious, her hand clutching her phone twisting uselessly at her side.

Rayan cut straight to the point. "Eleanora, what did my mother ask you to do?"

"Nothing, nothing at all, I—"

Rayan’s gaze turned sharp as a blade, and Eleanora caved immediately. "Mrs. Spencer thinks you’re too soft-hearted, so she asked me to quietly stir up trouble between you and Maya. She wants me to push Maya into leaving willingly."

Rayan’s eyebrows drew tighter, his gaze darkening with a quiet, heavy intensity.

Eleanora broke out in a cold sweat, shaking her head and her hands wildly. "But I never did it! Mr. Spencer, you have to believe me!"

She dropped to her knees, explaining desperately, "Mr. Spencer, I’ll admit I took her side at first. But after three years living here with Maya? She’s good, kind, she treats me like family. How could I turn on her? Forgive me for saying this, but I think of you and Maya like my own kids. Of course I want you two to work things out. I… I…"

As he listened, Rayan’s furrowed brows slowly softened. He stepped forward and reached out to help her stand. "Eleanora, I trust you. I’m sorry you got stuck in the middle of this."

Eleanora wiped the tears from her eyes, shaking her head. "It’s no trouble, really."

"Maya’s upstairs?"

"Yes. After Hayden left, she went straight up. I think she was packing. Mr. Spencer… are you two really getting a divorce?"

Rayan’s brows, which had just relaxed, drew tight again.

Were he and Maya really getting a divorce?

Five years ago, when he was still recovering from his catastrophic car crash, Maya married him as a kind of… symbolic gesture, to help him heal. He’d never believed in that sort of nonsense, but that didn’t change the truth: Maya had taken care of him, supported him, and pulled him through the hardest years of his life. Nothing could ever take that away.